It wasn't the ending to our vacation that I had been planning for. How could it have been? Somehow, I managed to get out of bed and get dressed and get in the van to the airport. Aching and freezing (in the tropics!), we made it to Singapore without incident. I was feeling like I had made some progress. I kept saying, "I'm at 50%, I'm going to be fine." For the next 24 hours, Andy got to go out one last time with Mark and I got to lay down and try to get over whatever it was that had a hold of me. I would have moments where I was good, I could take Oliver outside to play and moments where I would call to Andy because I was too exhausted to change a diaper. When we said goodbye to Mark the next day (Sashka was in the US), I reassured him that we would be fine, I was getting better all the time. I lied. Things went downhill once we got to Delhi. I woke up the next morning in searing pain. I couldn't breathe. My lungs were on fire, it hurt to move, I couldn't bear weight. All that was on my mind was getting to a hospital, any hospital. I was getting scared. I knew I needed help but was I really about to subject myself to an Indian hospital? What if this was Dengue? An embolism? What if they couldn't help me? What if they made it worse?
Not so luckily for us, we were in the most precarious place for any outside communication. We had to call our insurance company and we had to get an internet connection to see where a semi-decent hospital was located. Andy was on the move, he ran to the internet cafe (of course, our hotels's was not working that morning...nor was their phone?????) and made the calls, looked things up, paying for each minute and frustrated that he couldn't find out more. I sat on the stoop of our hotel trying to breathe, holding back tears, and shielding my face from the over-curious eyes bearing down on me.
When Andy and Oliver returned, we had a plan: a good hospital was only five blocks away. The ride over in the rickshaw was excruciating. Every bump sent a stab of pain to my lungs. I was sobbing, what was awaiting me? Would I receive quality care? Would I be waiting around for hours?
When we first walked in the hospital doors, we saw a sign that read "casualty viewing." Andy assured me that this was just a waiting room and the translation was bad, but I was panicked. Two steps into the hospital and I am thinking I just passed the morgue. We're off to a great start!
Barely breathing, I check in and give a brief history and am directed to a bed. There is blood on the sheet. Fresh. I make them change the sheet. I get eye rolls. It just keeps getting better. The pain overwhelms me and I start crying again. My nurse comes over and assures me, "We will take good care of you. Stop crying! Nothing bad will happen! You're not going to die!" If you say so lady... did you see that sheet? The man at the reception desk was taking video of Oliver on his phone and showing it to everyone that walked by. I got upset. Are patient privacy laws not a "thing" here? Is he allowed to video anyone that comes in? That's my kid! I don't want him on your phone! Andy told me to relax and my doctor just shrugged his shoulders. Fabulous.
I got hooked up to an IV and am given pain medication. What kind? Who knows! Will it be alright to nurse my baby? It should be just fine! Fantastic. I was given oxygen and told they were ordering a full blood panel, EKG and a chest x-ray. Wonderful, let's get this show on the road; I was pretty sure the woman next to me had Tuberculosis. The EKG looked like something that dated back to Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman's time. They put clamps that looked like jumper cables on my ankles and wrists. I joked, "You're not going to jump start me, right?" My tech said, "Yes...yes." Oh boy. It was normal.
I got wheeled to the x-ray room and I am pretty sure the tech in there did not stand behind anything as my x-ray was taken. That seemed safe. My x-ray was normal too. I got wheeled back into the emergency room and put in between two different patients. This time, I was sure the person next to me had Tuberculosis and I sent Andy and Oliver outside; this was no place for a baby. My nurse came around to recheck my IV and take blood for the panel. I made her change her gloves. She wasn't going to and she had been seeing every patient down the line. When I told her she had to change her gloves before she touched me, she rolled her eyes. I guess Universal Precautions aren't a "thing" here either. Wonderful.
I tried to breathe and rest all the while staying vigilant for clean gloves. If whatever this was wasn't going to kill me, I wasn't about to get some blood-born illness that would do the job. My fever was 104 and I was told to wait four hours for my blood work to come back and that I could check my results online. I was given fever reducing pills, pain medication, the website to check my results, and a bill for $20 American dollars for three hours of care and the tests. We paid and left. I slept mostly soundly for eighteen hours back at the hotel. Opening my eyes required so much work. That night when I finally did open my eyes, we checked the website for my test results during one of my awake moments and they were not in yet. I fell back asleep and Andy cancelled our overnight train tickets and booked plane tickets (thank goodness). We woke the next morning and I felt haggard. I couldn't even carry Oliver to the car. Somehow, we got to the airport and on a plane and made it to Dehradun. It's still a blur, I don't remember the flight at all. When we got home and got the bags in the house I only had the energy to sit. We checked the website again, maybe they meant twenty-four hours? Still nothing. I had the doctor who comes to the health center at school read my results when they came in (four DAYS later) and she said I clearly had a virus. They can come on fast and strong and linger for days. I had a fever for five. And still did not feel one-hundred percent one week later.
So, that's the end of the five week adventure. It wasn't an easy or painless one, but it had to come to an end. I learned that tropical viruses are no joke. When I look back at those five weeks, the fun and positive memories are what stand out; not the sick and frustrating ones. I would do it all again in a minute (well, maybe leave out Jaisalmer) because beyond all the adventures and the food and the fun, I learned so much about myself and how I respond to stress and how much reshaping my outlook will benefit me and my family. That alone was worth every rupee spent.
Not so luckily for us, we were in the most precarious place for any outside communication. We had to call our insurance company and we had to get an internet connection to see where a semi-decent hospital was located. Andy was on the move, he ran to the internet cafe (of course, our hotels's was not working that morning...nor was their phone?????) and made the calls, looked things up, paying for each minute and frustrated that he couldn't find out more. I sat on the stoop of our hotel trying to breathe, holding back tears, and shielding my face from the over-curious eyes bearing down on me.
When Andy and Oliver returned, we had a plan: a good hospital was only five blocks away. The ride over in the rickshaw was excruciating. Every bump sent a stab of pain to my lungs. I was sobbing, what was awaiting me? Would I receive quality care? Would I be waiting around for hours?
When we first walked in the hospital doors, we saw a sign that read "casualty viewing." Andy assured me that this was just a waiting room and the translation was bad, but I was panicked. Two steps into the hospital and I am thinking I just passed the morgue. We're off to a great start!
Barely breathing, I check in and give a brief history and am directed to a bed. There is blood on the sheet. Fresh. I make them change the sheet. I get eye rolls. It just keeps getting better. The pain overwhelms me and I start crying again. My nurse comes over and assures me, "We will take good care of you. Stop crying! Nothing bad will happen! You're not going to die!" If you say so lady... did you see that sheet? The man at the reception desk was taking video of Oliver on his phone and showing it to everyone that walked by. I got upset. Are patient privacy laws not a "thing" here? Is he allowed to video anyone that comes in? That's my kid! I don't want him on your phone! Andy told me to relax and my doctor just shrugged his shoulders. Fabulous.
I got hooked up to an IV and am given pain medication. What kind? Who knows! Will it be alright to nurse my baby? It should be just fine! Fantastic. I was given oxygen and told they were ordering a full blood panel, EKG and a chest x-ray. Wonderful, let's get this show on the road; I was pretty sure the woman next to me had Tuberculosis. The EKG looked like something that dated back to Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman's time. They put clamps that looked like jumper cables on my ankles and wrists. I joked, "You're not going to jump start me, right?" My tech said, "Yes...yes." Oh boy. It was normal.
I got wheeled to the x-ray room and I am pretty sure the tech in there did not stand behind anything as my x-ray was taken. That seemed safe. My x-ray was normal too. I got wheeled back into the emergency room and put in between two different patients. This time, I was sure the person next to me had Tuberculosis and I sent Andy and Oliver outside; this was no place for a baby. My nurse came around to recheck my IV and take blood for the panel. I made her change her gloves. She wasn't going to and she had been seeing every patient down the line. When I told her she had to change her gloves before she touched me, she rolled her eyes. I guess Universal Precautions aren't a "thing" here either. Wonderful.
I tried to breathe and rest all the while staying vigilant for clean gloves. If whatever this was wasn't going to kill me, I wasn't about to get some blood-born illness that would do the job. My fever was 104 and I was told to wait four hours for my blood work to come back and that I could check my results online. I was given fever reducing pills, pain medication, the website to check my results, and a bill for $20 American dollars for three hours of care and the tests. We paid and left. I slept mostly soundly for eighteen hours back at the hotel. Opening my eyes required so much work. That night when I finally did open my eyes, we checked the website for my test results during one of my awake moments and they were not in yet. I fell back asleep and Andy cancelled our overnight train tickets and booked plane tickets (thank goodness). We woke the next morning and I felt haggard. I couldn't even carry Oliver to the car. Somehow, we got to the airport and on a plane and made it to Dehradun. It's still a blur, I don't remember the flight at all. When we got home and got the bags in the house I only had the energy to sit. We checked the website again, maybe they meant twenty-four hours? Still nothing. I had the doctor who comes to the health center at school read my results when they came in (four DAYS later) and she said I clearly had a virus. They can come on fast and strong and linger for days. I had a fever for five. And still did not feel one-hundred percent one week later.
So, that's the end of the five week adventure. It wasn't an easy or painless one, but it had to come to an end. I learned that tropical viruses are no joke. When I look back at those five weeks, the fun and positive memories are what stand out; not the sick and frustrating ones. I would do it all again in a minute (well, maybe leave out Jaisalmer) because beyond all the adventures and the food and the fun, I learned so much about myself and how I respond to stress and how much reshaping my outlook will benefit me and my family. That alone was worth every rupee spent.
Holy CATS, Lindsey :( Worst!!!!! :( It's hard enough to be that sick HERE--you & Andy must have been out of your minds. So sorry you had that experience :( Hugs!
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